Alagaesia, the Land of Mystery
by ReviewMaster52497
Summary: A collection of works aimed at expanding on the various peculiar happenings throughout the lands of Alagaesia. Featuring several OCs, and many characters of Paolini's workings. I hope you enjoy :)
1. The Epic of Krevik, Part 1

**Atra esterni ono thelduin,**

 **It was brought to my attention that I did not provide a timeline for my previous chapter. Each of these is set approximately 500 years after the end of Inheritance, unless otherwise stated.**

 **And now, for the second part in this installation of adventure... the tale of the first dwarven Rider.**

When news reached the kingdom of the dwarves that the pact between the dragons and the various races of Alagaesia had been altered to include them as well, there were mixed reactions, to say the least. Some saw it as the beginning of a new age, where they were considered equals despite their status as the eldest race. Some saw it as an insult that there was no due process to consider such a momentous decision, which affected every clan and every knurlan. Most, however, saw it as an affront to their very way of life, and the mannerisms in which they most loved to live. Carving intricate tunnels, and finding beautiful gems were what they deemed worthy pursuits of one's talents. Who among them would ever deign to leave the ground their bones were made of, in pursuit of adventure with a race of monstrous lizards that nearly caused the destruction of their entire species?

Krevik, that's who. Krevik was an oddity among the clans. He had been abandoned at birth at the gates of Tronjheim. His parents had never come forward, and there was no clan he could call his own. As such, he spent much of his life in search of meaning where there was none for him. He never had a father to teach him how to see the grain of the rock, so that he might chisel it away into the naturally beautiful shapes hidden within. He never had a mother who could tell him exactly why a girl's heart ticked, so that he might find someone to begin his own family with. Thus, he never connected deeply with any one kurla, save for his mentor.

As a youth, he stayed in a sort of orphanage. There were precious few dwarves who would condemn their children to the fate that Krevik had seen since the day of his birth, and as such, there really weren't any proper orphanages in any of the dwarf cities. Instead, he was given a room in the back of the kitchen where he was tended to by the cook's assistant. One day, playing as children do, he accidentally broke a butter knife that he'd found and fancied as a sword. The assistant, knowing he'd be blamed for his careless watch over the young knurla, was furious at Krevik. He told Krevik that if the youth did not procure a replacement, there would be great judgement awaiting him.

Not knowing where, or even how, to look for a replacement knife, Krevik spent most of the rest of that day mourning his err, which he believed would prove to be fatal. Thus, when the stress became too much for the poor boy to bear, he uttered a feral shout, jamming the two pieces of the knife back together. There, in his hands, Krevik suddenly held a single piece of metal. The knife had mended itself, apparently of its own free will. Krevik was astonished, and rushed to show the cook's assistant what he had done. Upon seeing the flawless repair of the butter knife, the assistant rushed to his great-grandmother, a knurla who practiced magic by herself, living deep in caves far away from any of her race. When he brought Krevik to her, she was delighted and said to him, "Here is one who truly possesses the gift. I can feel it in him. There is much potential in this young knurla. I will train him, for I fear without the proper training, he would become the very downfall of the land."

Thus, Krevik spent the next fifty years studying the ancient language with the great-grandmother of the cook's assistant, far away from any prying eyes or ears. He showed great promise from his first lesson; quickly mastering the runes and written language. His speech took some more time, as he had never been taught how to properly enunciate words in the dwarven language, and the old lady spoke with an accent so thick, he might've mistaken it for human speech. Nonetheless, through constant persistence and unwavering patience, he quickly learned all she knew, and was instructed in how to cast some of the more complex spells that she had personally designed.

One day, she said to him, "Krevik, I have taught you all that I can. I have never seen a more gifted magician. Nor would I have ever expected to be fortunate enough to train him. I know now that our time is coming to an end, and as your mentor, there are only a few more scraps of knowledge that I must impart to you. Knurlan will not be pleased when you emerge from these tunnels. Magic like the magic you possess, it is not commonly found or understood, and they fear that which they do not understand. Therefore, I implore you to seek out lands beyond these mountains. Surely there is someone out there who can carry on the work which I have started in you. You are a good knurla, of pure heart and flawless morality. Yet you cannot let this cloud your judgement. All of us are subject to temptation, and all of us will fall to it at one point or another. This does not make us bad, but we must recognize when we slip, and then we must correct the path we walk so that it is the straight and narrow path of a morally intact person.

"There is a land that I heard whisper of in my childhood, far to the north of here, where there are beings of great magical prowess. Perhaps here, you shall find your place. Perhaps here, there will be a home for you that you have not had the opportunity to embrace among your own people. My heart bleeds for you, fair Krevik, but I must implore you to forsake these stones in search of a place to belong. Fear not, for there are many friends beyond these caves. But guard your heart, lest the impure seek to twist your trust to their advantage. Everyone has their own purposes, and it would be folly to forget that they're more often than not, in pursuit of these purposes, whether they appear to be helping you or not.

"Trust the werecats, for they have never been known to lie. The other races, which have arrived here after the knurlan were created, I know precious little about. As it were, I'm having trouble even recalling what it is they call themselves. But the werecats; the werecats you can trust. Go now, Krevik. Go out and search the world for your purpose; for your calling. Go out and make old Haemna proud."

With these words, and a song of loneliness upon his lips, Krevik left the only person to treat him like someone of value. He left Haemna in her tunnels, and departed for the lands to the north that she spoke of. He was young by the standards of dwarves when he departed from the Beors; only 67 years of age. Yet he knew enough about gramyre that he was afraid of very little. He should have been more wary.

 **Thus begins the tale of Krevik, the first dwarven Rider. Shall he find a more hospitable environment to the north? Or shall the creatures beyond the Beor Mountains be as seclusive as the knurlan with which he found no favor? Where exactly will he end up? Will my pizza ever be delivered? We shall all have to wait and see...**

 _The replies to the readers;_

 _This is the section of the chapter where I respond to any and all comments made upon the previous chapter, present at the time of my writing this chapter. Thus far, I only have one review, so this will be quick and painless._

 _TheNerf12: I believe I answered one of your queries in the above A/N. As far as The Boss, he was an original of mine, a sort of criminal mastermind pulling the strings of the underbelly of Surda. It is unlikely that I will bring him back, but if I need to, perhaps he shall make a reappearance._

 **Thank you all for reading, and please add me to your favorites so you'll get updates on my progress!**

 **Un atra mor'ranr lifa unin hjarta onr,**

 **ReviewMaster**


	2. Dirk

**Atra esterni ono thelduin,**

 **Welcome one and all! This "story" is a collection of various works that I'll be putting together for your viewing pleasure. I seek to explore the various openings that Paolini left for so much fantastic literature that we have yet to see bear any fruit. Within here, you shall find everything from one-shots to series, romance and adventure, Urgals and werecats and dwarves and elves and dragons and humans and if you're lucky, even herbalists. We shall explore the far reaches of Alagaesia; from the Beor mountains to the Spine, Du Weldenvarden to Surda and everything in between. If fortune smiles upon this outing, we might even be lucky enough to explore lands not yet seen by anyone.**

 **I will do my best to update this collection regularly. On a daily basis, if I can; however you shall never wait for more than a week to see new content. If you do, spam my PMs to let me know you're upset with my lack of forward motion. This chapter is a one-shot, centered around the tomb of a certain storyteller that we all know and love. Enough with the extended A/N; adventure awaits!**

A Tomb of Diamond

Dirk knew that if he didn't find it soon, he'd have to turn back empty-handed once more. And that was an unacceptable proposition. His employers would not allow another failure to go unpunished, and their punishments were not something one survived. At least not in the same manner as which they had lived previously. Dirk had seen men's eyes torn from their sockets, limbs decapitated, tongues cut out, ears filled with molten iron. He shuddered to think what might happen to him should he be unsuccessful in his current venture.

Dirk was a treasure hunter, of sorts. He had grown up without parents, and had fled the orphanage. He didn't like the rules they had, and he had no intention of letting someone tell him how to live his life. He snorted, amused that such a childish ambition had driven him to exactly the place he didn't want. In order to survive without parents, he often stole food from various houses and stalls in Surda. He was rather good at it too; his small build made it easy for him to slip in unnoticed, and he was an excellent lockpick; a trait he developed at a later time, fiddling around with a broken lock.

This petty thievery didn't go unnoticed, however. By the time Dirk was fourteen, he had been jailed several times. Had he been an adult, he surely would have been executed far before that, but the courts deigned to grant him mercy on account of his age. He considered them fools, but didn't argue, lest they dismount their high horse and treat him as an equal. During his latest jaunt in the cells of the Surdan dungeon, he met a fellow whose name he never learned. This person told him of a man, more myth than fact, who supposedly ran Surda from behind a curtain of illusion. A man few people knew of, and even fewer ever met. A man who wanted to meet Dirk.

All of this was terribly exciting for the youth; to be thought of as more than common scum, someone of notice, someone of importance. He eagerly told the man that he'd love to meet this living legend, and a rendezvous was quickly arranged for the day after his release. Dirk was nervous, but he barely felt it underneath all of his giddy excitement at the opportunity to prove himself worthy of recognition. Little did he know, this would be the last time he was his own man.

The man he met only went by one name; The Boss. The Boss was a short, rotund fellow; clad in simple garments, and rather unnoticeable if you knew not for whom you searched. He spoke eloquently, but with an accent that was hard to place. He had a limp in his left foot, and result of a deal gone wrong. "The other guy limps a little heavier, though." he had told Dirk when the youth asked him about it. The Boss told Dirk that the courts and the royalty might be the ones that have the people's attention, but he and the men he employed were the ones that really kept the wheels of commerce turning. They would acquire certain articles of value, and invest said articles in various political allies in order to ensure a continued style of living for themselves. He told Dirk that if the youth would like, he could join the crew. He'd never go hungry, nor want for anything that money could buy.

These stories were exactly what the boy had wanted to hear, and he joined without a second thought. From that day forward, he worked for The Boss exclusively. He never met another member of the crew, and had no desire to. The man who held his heart was the one that showed him there was more available than a simple life of stealing to survive until the next day. Now, eight years later, on the eve of his twenty-second birthday, he was on the biggest mission he'd ever been entrusted with. He was to steal at least part of an enormous diamond that lay on a hill, somewhere in a barren wasteland. Tracking it down had been nigh impossible; nobody seemed to even know of its existence, and the few that did were not keen to discuss the subject. Indeed, simply mentioning it to one man had driven him into hysterics so wild, Dirk had to flee for his life.

Nonetheless, he had eventually met a woman who was able to direct him to a vague area in which she swore the gem resided. Dirk had been wandering for nearly a fortnight, and he knew that if he did not find it by sundown today, he'd likely never find anything again. He trudged over hill after hill, cursing the woman who'd sent him to this forsaken place all the while. His spirit broken by the descent of the sun, he was starting to consider any viable options for eluding The Boss and his scores of henchmen all over the lands of Alagaesia when a twinkling caught his eye. He squinted into the distant west, trying to catch a glimpse of what he had saw, but there was nothing more.

 _It's probably my mind playing tricks on me, but I have no other options at this point._ He headed west, through a valley towards a hill that stood somewhat taller than the rest. As he neared the base, he saw the glimmer again, from the top of the hill. He looked up at it, and as the sun caught the rock, he saw the diamond. From where he stood, he could tell that this gemstone was beyond what he'd expected. longer than a fully grown man and at least tall enough to make a decent table. He felt a rush of excitement, and allowed it to carry him quickly up the side of the hill.

Upon cresting the top, his mouth dropped open. This thing was _HUGE_. There was no way he'd be able to bring it back with him, although The Boss had expected that. He had told Dirk, "If the rumors are to be trusted, it would take two teams of horses to pull this giant gem. I don't put trust in rumors though, which is why I need you to find it for me."

Well found it he had. Dirk removed the pack from his back, opening it to reveal several tools. Long, flat pieces of metal used for prying things open, thinner pieces for picking locks, hammers for crushing and breaking, blades for cutting. He retrieved a chisel and a hammer, and strode up to the diamond.

When he got close enough, he recoiled in shock at what he saw. There, inside the gem, was a _body_. An old man in a long robe, his hair growing white, and his face in peace, rested in the middle of this priceless tomb. Dirk couldn't believe what he was seeing. He circled the tomb, trying to see if it was some sort of illusion, but he had to conclude that this was indeed a real person inside of an enormous gemstone. Then something on the surface caught his eye. And inscription, laid into the clear diamond.

 _Here lies Brom,_

 _Who was a Rider bonded to the dragon Saphira_

 _Son of Holcomb and Nelda_

 _Father of Eragon Shadeslayer_

 _Founder of the Varden_

 _And Bane of the Forsworn._

 _May his name live on in glory._

Under this were runes that Dirk didn't recognize. _Eragon Shadeslayer... could it be the same Eragon of legend?_ Dirk didn't know of any other Eragons, but he also didn't know of anyone that had ever slew a shade. He backed away from the tomb, suddenly afraid of attempting to harvest even the tiniest flake of diamond to bring back. If this was the father of _the_ Eragon, he had no wish to defile his memory to appease The Boss.

He paced back and forth, trying to determine the best course of action. Eventually, fear of the same punishments he'd seen before being inflicted upon himself won out, and the notion of self-preservation drove him forward to place the chisel against the diamond, and raise the hammer above his head. He brought the hammer down as hard as he could, and the instant the force transferred from the hammer into the chisel, and reverberated down into the diamond tomb, he felt a splitting pain in his head, and dropped to the ground in agony. Lying there, he noticed something he hadn't seen before. A small, white bone protruding from the ground. _Others have tried before me_. Unfortunately for Dirk, he realized this too late.

And so, Dirk passed into the void, crumpled next to the object he had considered his saving grace merely an hour before. The sands of time would cover him as well, and the tomb would stand once more, a beacon of the prosperity that could be had if one is fortunate enough to know a Rider.

 **And there you have it, folks! I know, it's a little depressing, but you ought to know better than to mess with something that bears the name of Shadeslayer upon it. I imagine there will be quite a few new characters that I'll add to this world, although I will keep Alagaesia itself as true to the original books as I possibly can.**

 **And yes, there** ** _will_** **be some Eragon/Arya work later down the line. I love the pairing, and can't wait to show you all how I would have liked to see Paolini play their love out.**

 **For now, that is all.**

 **Un atra mor'ranr lifa unin hjarta onr.**

 **ReviewMaster**


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